


Meet me up at Midnight, in the Apple Tree

by Alliswell



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, F/M, Ghosts?, Implied Mental Instability, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Rated M (No Sexual Situations), Suicide, Tumblr: promptsinpanem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:29:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5039317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliswell/pseuds/Alliswell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blindsided by news of her impending relocation to a mental institution in the Capitol, Katniss Everdeen takes steps to ensure she'd always stay in her home in Victor's Village, right where she can lovingly tend to her treasured Apple Tree. (Unbeated but Revised)</p><p> </p><p>Warnings: Dark, mature themes non-sexual. If you're susceptible to Mental illness-Suicide themes, refrain from reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet me up at Midnight, in the Apple Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Prompts in Panem, round 8, the Farewell Tour, day 3: Expression in Everlark Week, Prompt: Canon Places, Victor's Village.
> 
>  **Trigger Warning:** Major Characters Death, Implied Mental Illness, Implied Depression, Graphic Representation of Suicide. No Sexual Situations in this work. 
> 
>  
> 
> **This is not a happy fic, but Everlark will hug at the end!**
> 
>  
> 
> The Characters of the Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins, as well as the lyrics to "The Hanging Tree" song.
> 
> This story hasn't been betaread, although it has been slightly altered, there will mistakes of various kinds, bear with me.

_"Are you, are you,_  
Coming to the tree?  
_Where they strung a man they say murdered three._  
_Strange things did happen here,_  
_No stranger would it be,  
If you met me a midnight in the hanging tree."_

I sing the words as an anthem under my breath. No one is around to hear me singing, and even if there was anyone I could care less if they heard; by now, singing is more like an unconscious reflex, especially when I’m gardening. The sweat beads up on my forehead as is worked on my tree, singing the song that had been forbidden for to me before the war… before him.

  
“ _Are you, are you,_  
_Coming to the tree,_  
Where I told you to run, so we both be free;  
_Strange things did happen here,_  
_No stranger would it be if we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.”_

  
It had taken me three and half years to have my beloved apple tree looking strong and healthy, and I’m damned proud of it.

  
Six months, I fought to get all the legal rights to the land the bakery had stood on before the war. Another three months to secured the permissions to break up the new concrete the rebuilding crews had laid on my newly acquired land, but at the end, I dug up the earth underneath it until I found my prize: the dead roots of a scraggly apple tree that had been blown to pieces, and burn into dust by treacherous bombs, nearly seven years prior to that date.

  
It’s amazing to me to think that I’ve lived in this limbo for almost a decade. I know my staying afloat is was all thanks to _him_ , and he was the sole reason for which I fought tooth and nail for this piece of bark; that dead piece of wood held the only untinted memories of my Boy with the Bread, it embodied his goodness, selflessness and love for me. Effie called my efforts " _a love letter to Peeta_ " from me, the rest of the country are it up, heck if I know what is _that_ supposed to mean. All I know is that, every time I look up at my tree, I feel at home, and I feel home because of him. I used to hate the new house the Capitol saw fit to imprisoned me in when I first got it, but in my later years, Peeta and I made a home right here, we made it safe for each other, so we could get healthy, and find our well deserved happiness.

  
I look down at my fingernails, caked in dirt, and smile satisfied. My song doesn’t die just yet, but I can hear the chirping of mockingjays already picking up the melody, not that they  need me to sing it anymore, I'm sure that by now birds are perfectly acquainted with the music to be able to sing it on their own, seeing as it's the only song in my repertoire anymore. 

  
“… _Where they strung up a man, they say murdered three_  
_Strange things did happen here_  
_No stranger would it be_  
_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.”_

  
The real test with my tree, came when I had to face the impossible task of revive and replant the dried up roots. I had to apply for countless petitions and permits, before they granted me the right to conduct my pesky little ‘ _experiment_ ’ with the fallen apple tree. I succeeded in my attempts, and soon enough I’d hired Capitol botanists and ‘Green’ Scientist to basically clone the roots in order to replant it in my backyard, where it currently lives. Peeta thought it was amusingly strange, that I went to the people that had expertly engineered Snow’s mutt roses, to recreate my tree, and subsequently achieve my goal; I thought of it from a logical point of view, if anyone knew about manipulating plants to create something as unnatural as the roses of my nightmares, they could surely bring a tree back from the dead, at the very least, I knew they would try.

  
I finally learned patience with all the trail and error of the first months, years even. It took the greater part of two years to study, mutate, and finally grow a replica tree out of the ' _DNA_ ’ of the roots I’ve procured from under the soiled dirt of Twelve. It was hard work. Scary, doubtful work, but when I look up at the big branches above my head, that extend thick and strong against the win, resembling the arms that I crave every day, I know all my troubles were worth it. A breeze sways the trunk making the leaves rustled musically back at me. Sometimes, when the branches sing in the wind, I let myself believe is his response to my chanting.

  
“ _Are you, are you,  
Coming to the tree…"_

  
“You keep singing that song looking up at that thing so wistfully, soon this lawn is gonna be overrun with Capitol watch-dogs, Sweetheart." my song gets rudely interrupted by a harsh grunt behind me. He startled me and I jump a little by the sudden intrusion.

  
"Shut up, Haymitch!" I yell back at him, whiping around to scowl at him. He smirks knowingly in return, and I hate him for that. "No one has come here in months, why would an innocent song bring them back?" I huff out eying him from top to bottom. "What do you want? Why did you come here anyway? I haven’t seen you in weeks.” He smiles. "And by the way, sobriety looks stupid on you.“ This makes him laugh heartily.

  
"Just saying, Sweetheart. Merely a friendly warning, keep singing The Hanging Tree in front of a tree that looks strong enough to support your frame without breaking, and people will start making assumptions. That song ain’t innocent at all, and you know it.” He shrugs. “Also, came here to tell you, the Boy doesn’t approve of any of this crap," He nods towards the tree as he makes a sloppy hand gesture at me, "But, you already know that, don't you? I’m sure he’s told you so himself before,” He says giving me another knowing smile.

  
“He-he has said nothing of the sort. In fact, he doesn’t oppose. Whatever you think you are talking about, he doesn’t oppose to me at all," I respond flustered.

  
It's true. Peeta guessed what I wanted with the dead tree long ago, and still he's never said anything to discourage my plans. Not directly at any rate.

  
"Yeah, I bet. You know that boy was never ever able to go against you… he tried, I give him that. He tried with all his might during both your games, at the end it was you, who always got your way." Guffaws Haymitch like a maniac. As usual, his amusement grates me the wrong way.

  
"What are you talking about? I didn’t get my way in the games. No one ever did!" I snap angrily. But right before my former mentor could reply, someone else caught my attention.

  
"Katniss?” A confused, male voice calls my name from the other side of the fenced-in yard of my house… Peeta’s and my house, really.

I moved right in practically the next day I realized it was _real_ for the both of us, after the rebellion. It only took a few weeks for us to have a small Toasting, just for the two of us, after I moved into his house. And then probably close to a year later, we finally legalize our marriage. Initially, I told myself I accepted his official 'real' proposal, and married him, out of simple practicality; we shared a home, we shared a business and it was just practical. Except, deep down, it was so much more. Peeta had dreamed about to marrying me, almost his whole life, it was just so easy to give him that small joy, and if I'm honest, I was so happy to give in, I even forgot to be scared about the wedding, however small and simple it was.

"Katniss, hello..." The visitor tries again. I recognize the voice, before I spot it’s owner. I’m slightly surprise to see him here, but what is more surprising is that I don’t feel much of anything when I finally meet his gray eyes from around the imposing tree trunk.

“Gale," I breathe out slowly just as he starts to entered the yard. Haymitch snickers behind my shoulder. Ugh. He can be so irritating. I hate him right now, especially when he swoops in a mutters into my ears the next words,

  
”Ah Sweetheart, you always got your way, alright. The Boy’s only wish, always was to give his life in exchange for yours. You just never let him die for you," I can't see his face from our position, but I know by the tone of his voice, after years of snarky conversation with the old drunkard, this is the moment his gray Seam eyes turn dangerous and hard. "Now it seems, that getting your way might no longer be a viable option for you, little Mockingjay. I guess I was right about you singing that damned song aloud after all. See you later girly, do yourself a favor and cooperate with whatever tall, dark and scowling has come here to do." Haymitch practically hisses in my ear, as if we're back in a position where I need his advice, then quickly disappears leaving me there, to face Gale alone.

  
”Danmed you Haymitch!“ I mutter under my breath, trying to ignore his parting comments. I take a step in Gale’s direction. ”Uh, hi Gale. Wha-what brings you here?“ I can’t quite mask the distrust in my voice, and by the scowl in his face I can tell, it didn't go unnoticed by him either. I can’t say that I care much.

  
Gale furrows his brow for a moment, collecting his thoughts before answering. "Hello, Katniss. Just here visiting. I mean, I'm on official duties, supervising the performance of the medicinal factory and looking at the plans for the new expansion. I just figured I’d come by, check in, see how you're doing.” His tone is cautious, stilted. He studies my face for a long minute, before his eyes wander past me to the other side of the tree. He sees nothing there but the empty backyard. Without looking at me, the question leaves his mouth, almost like he couldn’t hold it back, “Who were you talking to when I…?” He stops himself short, takes a deep breath and refocuses his eyes on mine. “I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind my asking. I just couldn’t see around the tree and only heard your voice… by the way, this thing is impressively big for an apple tree,” Gale says patting the bark of the tree, and his vigilant eyes scan the yard again, more slowly this time.

I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but is evident he doesn’t find it.  
I shake my head, and dig the heels of my hands into my eyes for a moment, rubbing the confusion out of them before returning my gaze to him. I feel like my mind is slowing down, like is sinking deep in molasses, not allowing me to function properly. I’m a too familiar with the sensation for my liking, I fact, I dread it more than anything, I hate it because I know what comes after my brain gets stuck in the mush, and I get dragged down the weight of the feelings, I'll remember this I rather forget about and that's when the fight to stay above the surface will fade, and I'll fall slowly into the dark pit of sadness so consuming, I know I would just lay in bed without moving until I'm dead. I blame all this on Gale's sudden appearanc, even if it’s unreasonable to do so.

“It doesn’t matter," I rush out harshly, I didn't mean to be rude, it's just that the alternative was to gasp out of breath, and how would I cover that one up? "He’s gone now. He won’t bother me for the rest of the day anyway." I add after a second. I need to get moving, I have to distract myself so I don't have to think too much, or watch Gale scrutinize my yard. "Let’s-let’s walk you back to town. Where are you staying at?" I ask opening, and walking through the small gate in the half-wall surrounding the space that houses the apple tree.

I’m not really waiting for him as I purposefully walk through the green in the middle of Victor’s Village and on to the new path towards town, Gale has to jog a small distance to catch up with me.

  
"So, how have you been, Katniss? You look great by the way. My family was happy to know I was gonna get to see you briefly. You know, everyone in the Panem is happy to see, you have been keeping busy with your botanical endeavors…”

  
“Botanical endeavors?" I repeat cutting him off. I find his eyes and I’m aware I’m sporting a disgusted scowl on my face, which makes him laugh ruefully. I press on, "Who talks like that? You sound like a scripted newscaster. Is Plutarch feeding you lines through that ear piece?" I stand on tiptoes, rolling my eyes while I reach behind his ear to pull the tiny flesh colored bud, that indeed was inside his ear. He laughs some more and relaxes a big deal.

  
"Mmm, no. Plutarch is not, in fact, feeding me lines right now, no. But, I give you that I do sound ridiculous repeating that stupid phrase. They keep using it to describe the whole thing with you and the apple tree, it just slipped out of my mouth out of... I don't know, hearing it too much I guess,” He’s still smiling at me, reluctantly I allow my lips to curl upwards, just a little bit, before cutting my sight back in the direction of town picking up my pace.

  
“Really though, how have you been?" Gale asks again.

  
"Fine. I’ve been just fine, thank you for asking." My response comes out dry and curt before I turn my face staring him right in the eyes. My voice is icy next, "Now let’s cut the crap, Gale. Tell me, what does _really_ bring you here? I know the whole factory thing is just a cover. They send inspectors, and engineers, and all kinds of military personnel and government representatives, to check on that periodically enough. I've never seen you amongst them. I know you are not part of the supervisors, so once more, what brings you back to Twelve?" Gale releases a shuddering breath. I’m sure he can feel the mistrust emanating in waves from me.

  
”Alright, Catnip," he says wearily, rubbing a hand to his forehead, before returning his eyes to mine, now we match again, seriousness and hard stares, I cross my arms over my chest for good measure. "You are right. I’m not really here to supervise anything," He sucks in a deep breath and looks around, for a place to sit and talk. He doesn’t find anything, so he asks uncomfortably, ”Could we maybe go back to the Village? Might as well try and get comfortable, if I have to start this conversation right now.“

I sigh and nod reluctantly, before backtracking up the new path in the direction of home. It’s strange for me sometimes to refer to Victor’s Village as home, but that’s what the Village has become over the years. The place where me and Peeta made a living together; but then again, home is not a set of walls and a roof, because I highly doubt is this place what I’m emotionally attached to, but rather the person that became my lifeline and my safe heaven when life was too hard to live. Peeta is my home, whether we are in District Twelve or dead, that will never change for either of us.

  
We trudge back across the green once more, and I hesitate for a moment, finally deciding on walking right into the house I once shared with Prim and our mother. If I have to endure Gale in my turf, he has to be as uncomfortable as I feel right now. I know I’m being petty, and I know for a fact being in this house will exacerbate the nightmares that usually hit me hard and mercilessly at night when I venture back into this mausoleum of bad memories and fear, but honestly I don’t care, Gale should feel fear of the ghosts too.

  
"Alright Gale, I’m all ears." I say resolute, marching into my abandoned living room and taking a seat farthest from him.

  
"We’ve never lied to each other, and I’m not about to start lying to you right now,” Gale states taking another deep breath, sitting heavily on the dusty couch, “I hope you know that.” He looks straight at me, the seriousness in his gaze is all too familiar, so I nod my answer.

  
“I knew you were full of crap, the moment you called me _Katniss_. You’d never call me _that_ unless it was out of anger or mistrust. I didn’t sense either back there." I say quietly meeting his eyes. "Though, I still consider a lie something you fail to bring up right away, lying by omission my mother would call it; so I hope your explanation is damned near espectacular." I tell him flatly staring at his face.

  
"Yeah, well, I guess I’m glad we still understand each other.” He says matching my tone. But, then his face softens, he looks almost regretful, “Look Catnip, people are worried about you. And when I say people, I mean you mother and your doctor. There are rumors going around about you talking to… you know…" He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, making a vague hand gesture in the general direction of my other house.

  
"Who?" I narrow my eyes at him in suspicion. I cross my arms over my chest, because I’m starting to feel defensive, I don’t know if he’s about to launch an attack on me, or what? All I know is that I don't like any of this, not one bit.

  
"Them!” Says Gale surprisingly out of sorts, he's staring into my eyes imploringly, I just don’t understand why, he must see the confusion in my eyes, because he elaborates,  “People say they’ve heard you, having whole conversations with yourself, around that damned tree of yours. It’s as if you are talking to _them_.” I’m more confused than before, I’ve no idea what is he talking about, and I let him know exactly that, but he cuts me off by saying in a calmer voice, “Catnip, I’m here, because I volunteered to come talk to you." His voice is soft and soothing, the one I associate with wounded animals before he plunges his hunting knife down their jugulars. "I’m here to escort you.” He says quietly, but firmly.

  
“I… I don’t understand a word you are saying, Gale. Escort me where? I’ve been overheard talking to whom?" I speak slowly, desperately trying to mask the alert and the fear that has started to claw its way up into my chest constricting my airways, I can’t let my rising panic show.

  
Gale rubs his forehead harshly with his fingertips and stars to explain. "Catnip, your mother and Doctor Aurelius decided, is better for you to go to the War Veteran’s Refuge in the Capitol, so you can rest and recuperate. Everyone wants what’s best for you, you know.” He looks up at me, I see his eyes shifting between mine, trying to assess how I’m receiving this news, but I can’t let him know how betrayed I really feel, it feels like no matter what I've done for Panem, nothing will ever be enough for the people of high hierarchy, “The good doctor thinks that after Haymitch’s death, the little stability you had… just snapped, so I’m here to take to the Capitol. It’s already been decided, I have my orders directly from the Presidential office, we leave tomorrow at first light…"

  
The last statement made my blood boil in my veins and rush hot all the way to fill my ears. Everything goes foggy before my eyes. I can't hear the birds that were so loud a minute ago chirping outside the windows, I don’t hear his pleas for me to stop and resume my seat. In fact I hadn’t even realized I’d leapt out of my chair and bolted from the house, until I see I’m ascending the steps to mine and Peeta’s front porch with Gale hot on my heels.

  
"Catnip, wait!” Gale calls angrily.  
I open my front door and step inside my house slamming it closed behind me. Unfortunately, the meaning of this action seems to have been lost on Gale, as he yanks the door open a moment later and bursts into the house, still calling after me angrily.

I’m sure he sees my collection of containers, full of fishing nets and ropes littering the hallway leading to the back door, but he doesn’t stop to study any of the curious objects he pases as he zeroes in on me. By the time he reaches me, I'm livid, how dare him come to my house and threaten me with taking me back to the Capitol. I'd die for sure in there. I can never go back there.

  
“What the hell are you doing here?" I yell as soon as I see him descending the steps to the backyard, where I’m just standing under my magnificent apple tree. "This is my house! You have no right Gale, get out of here before my husband comes back and makes you leave!" I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, I’m sure I look deranged, because Gale stops dead in his tracks, a look of disbelief, shock and pain coloring his face.

  
"Catnip, what are you talking about?” He asks pleadingly, his eyes full of concern and even fear.

  
“You know very well what I’m talking about." I hiss, "Peeta will come home from the bakery any minute now, and he will be furious you dared follow me into OUR home, and threaten me to take me away to some loonybin. You are lucky I didn’t think to grab my bow, you know" I growl at him. My voice is raw and dangerous, I throw in another threat for good measure, ”When Peeta turns mutt on you, I won’t move a muscle to defend you. He won’t let you, or anybody for that matter, take me back to that place. Not now, not ever.“ I know Peeta will never allow anyone to drag me back to place of terror and death, he’d fight even the whole new army of Panem, to defend me and keep me safely by his side. "Get out of my house, and go tell those traitors I’m staying right where I am!”

  
“Katniss,” Gale chokes out shakily, tears clearly brimming in his eyes. “Catnip, Peeta is dead. Peeta’s gone, and he won’t be coming back.” Gale’s voice quivers and in that moment, I feel sawdust fill my mouth, a piercing ringing in my ears, that all too familiar freezing fear, and then all the memories I’ve managed to suppressed come back hitting me like freight train.

  
“No," I gasp clutching a hand to my chest, "You liar, Gale Hawthorne. Peeta would’ve never leave me behind, he would’ve wait for me, no matter what,” The tears roll down my face silently. I fall to my knees and wail in despair wrapping my arms tightly around my middle. Of course I know Gale isn’t lying, still, I can’t accept the reality in which my Peeta is really dead.

  
Gale approaches me slowly and sits on the ground next to me, wrapping an consoling arm around my shoulders, I'm so far gone into my grief, I don't have it in me to shake him off of me, instead I let my face burrow deep into his once familiar chest. He sniffles for a moment and then says barely above a whisper.

“Catnip, Peeta died from a heart attack almost five years ago, remember?”

  
I nod, I do remember, the bile rises, and my eyes itch. Peeta's cardiologist said the venom in his bloodstream was too saturated, to be helped, his body couldn’t keep up. I thought that we had survived so many trials together, we could beat this one as well. Then one night, after spending a peaceful summer afternoon by the lake, we fell asleep like always, cuddling in each other's arms, my instinct woke me with a jerk; my hand and stopped feeling the steady drum of his heartbeat, I did everything I could, I begged, I screamed, I did the same thing Finnick did during the quell, I called his doctors, I pounded on his chest, nothing made his heart start up again. He was gone.

After, I was allowed to curl de him in our bed before his body was moved. He looked so beautiful, like he was having a placid dream. There was the ghost of a smile on his lips, I knew he went happy, he had me in his arms before he left. I couldn't resent him, I knew his last years I had given him what he had always wanted: my love.

“You were there at the funeral,” I say between tears, is both a question and a statement, “Real or not real?” I look up at Gale searching his eyes, which shut at the sound of the old game our squadron used to play with Peeta during the Capitol assault. The pain and grief in his curt nod is palpable and it takes me by surprise. I'm not sure if he's genuinely sad about Peeta's death, or if his just grieving on my behalf.

  
“Real,” He let’s out shakily, “And all of Panem cried with you, as his body was lowered into the ground, right there,” He signals to the base of the apple tree with his index finger.

  
I’m all cried out by now. I stare at the tree longingly for a moment, before I speak again in a raspy voice. “When I announced my plans to replant the tree over his gravesite, everyone called it the most romantic gesture of our generation." I chuckle mirthlessly, "People thought they understood the symbolism of the apple tree," I sit quietly for a moment, staring into the horizon, "They didn’t." I state flatly. I hear Gale sigh next to me, and I finally shrug off his arm from around me.

  
"Catnip,” He starts to speak, but my mind is lost in thought. I interrupt him almost immediately disregarding whatever words of consolation he was about to say, I don’t need them, I don’t want them. I talk over him as if I didn’t hear him addressing me.

  
“Did I ever tell you how I managed to score that twelve for the Quarter Quell?" I ask with my eyes fixed in a spot behind Gale's shoulder. He shakes his head, no.

  
"Of course not, Catnip. You never talked about either of your games to anyone." I nod, that much is true, only Peeta was privy those nightmares. 

  
"It was Finnick." I say absently, sensing his confusion I look up at him, for the first time since he told me what his real purpose in Victor’s Village was, "I got my perfect score by tying a knot Finnick Odair had showed me earlier in the week. Actually, I also took a leaf out of Peeta’s book.” I chuckle for a second, “Paint and ropes, scored me that blasted twelve.” I bring my eyes back to Gale’s weary ones, I know he’s trying to figure out where I’m going with this, but I’m not about to divulge my secrets, I simply smile to him and say, "You should ask Plutarch about it someday.“ I laugh, a real full laugh, because the memory is so raw and ridiculously painful, and I am mentally disoriented after all; in fact I am officially certified now, and soon to be committed in an institution, laughter is more than an appropriate response.

  
Gale isn’t sure what to do or think of my reaction, though, so I laugh even harder. "I miss them Gale," I sigh, "My fellow Victors, I miss them so very much. I envy them too, they escaped this godforsaken place. Too bad they left me behind." I mutter darkly.

  
”Catnip, Peeta, Finnick and Haymitch are all gone now, but… Just think of it as, they're all in a better place, and so will you, when you leave Victor’s Village behind. Let me take you to the Refuge in the morning, so you can get better?“ His voice is soft, tentative but full of hope. I give him a sad smile.

  
"I’m ready to leave Victor’s Village behind." I confirm, I don’t tell him I don’t mean it the way he thinks, and it makes me feel a tad guilty, when he takes a deep breath of relief at my answer, but the guilt is not comparison to the longing I feel when I look at my tree behind him.

 

============

 

 

Gale offered to help me pack away my belongings, but I waved it away claiming I needed time alone to say goodbye to the house that had been home to me and my late husband. Gale reluctantly left the house, with the promise of coming before sunrise to collect me. I was glad he left just in time for me to enjoy the sunset.

After Peeta died and the tree was strong enough to support my weight, I started climbing the tallest branches, I’d perch up in the very top ones with a length of rope in my hands, just to watch the pretty, warm oranges, pinks and reds of the sunsets my husband used to love so much. I practiced my knots, tying and unraveling the rope to start knotting again. Then, one day for no particular reason, I started singing to myself, kicking my feet to the slow rhythm of my own voice, enjoying the company of the mockingjays crowding the rest of the branches, listening intently, to copy and then imitate me afterwards.

  
Today is no different. In no time I've climbed my tree, I've done so many times by now that I think my body could do the ascent even if I wasn't consciously guiding it. I breath in deeply and smile to myself, I lean my back on the truck once I've chosen my branch, one leg dangling on each side kicking mindlessly, and the song leaves my throat unbidden.

  
” _Are you, are you_  
_Coming to the tree,_  
_Where the dead man called out for his love to flee;_  
_Strange things did happen here,_  
_No stranger would it be_  
_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.“_

Gale was semi right. I had managed to marginally hold my sanity under control after Peeta died; I busied myself by caring for Haymitch, who's health had started to deteriorate slowly, all that alcohol consumption had finally caught up with him. Haymitch’s doctors had found that he was suffering from something called Cirrhosis, some form of liver disease that rendered the organ useless. The old bastard refused to go get treatment after Peeta was gone, he said quite often how he had no false expectations of getting better, the truth was, he was as tired as I am now, he wanted to just be left alone to die in peace. I can sympatize with the sentiment. So when Haymitch inevitably succumbed to his illness, I was left with a gaggle of geese to look after and one more father figure (reluctant as we both were to admit it) to mourn.

  
But it wasn’t Haymitch’s expected passing that plunged me into the abyss of depression and shred my sanity to pieces. No, the resin I lost my mind is so improbabl, so laughable, that is no wonder no one ever made the connection, because out of all my losses, it was the death of that odious Buttercup what did me in. As if I needed another reason to resent that stupid bag of flees.

  
The lousy cat had survived everything, from a bombing to abandonment, to an unfathomable journey back to the ashes of our home after being ' _exiled_ ’ from District Thirteen. If there was something I admired about the feline, was his resilience, his toughness and survival skills to rival my own. It truly was a testament to his stubbornness, really. In our latter years, the cat and I had learn to accepted that we both were more alike than either of us would ever admit, what with our prickly personalities, our skittishness, how it seemed nothing would ever kill either of us, and our fondness for blondes, we were virtually the same person… cat… being.

  
As it turns out, Buttercup loved Peeta almost as much as he loved Prim. I couldn’t blame the fur-ball, in fact I was secretly happy for him. Just like me, Buttercup was helpless once Peeta creeped up on him, befriend him without warning. Peeta always had that annoying quality, in which he’d effortlessly worm his way into anybody's heart, no matter how many walls he encountered on his way, he was an expert at tearing them down and making you love him in the process. The bastard. He’d be laughing right now if he was privy to my thoughts.

  
No, losing both Peeta and Haymitch had been two very hard blows in their own rights, both paralyzing and numbing, but I had managed to stay afloat, above the despair and the anguish. I'd even dare say I was fine, even if I was just mediocrely living my day to day life. But then, that damned cat betrayed me, after all those years of mutual dislike, where we would antagonize each other, when we finally came to regard one another as family, he had to up and die on me, effectively leaving me alone to weather the suffocating sadness that choked me day and night. I found his stiff and lifeless body, staring without seeing on his favorite windowsill, one cold autum morning, that's when I experienced the worst mental breakdown in my life.

  
I hate Buttercup for leaving me, he was supposed to keep me company, we were supposed to die together; but I guess it's unreasonable to expect a cat that had survived as long as Buttercup had and seened all that he saw, to live longer than he had. The truth is, I miss the little pain in the neck, more than I hate him, sometimes I wish I had gone before him, but I guess that's wrong of me to wish. After crying over my sister’s former pet until my head hurt, I buried the little traitor under the tree, right next to Peeta; because he belonged there, next to family.

The pain of loosing the last connection to what used to be my life, was too strong, something must've snapped deep inside my brain, because that’s when I started seeing them, the ghosts of my loved ones.

Peeta was the first to come. I had been ignoring the world outside my living room, I have no idea how many days had I spent in my couch until that day, I got up to use the bathroom, and happened to look out the window one afternoon as the sun had started it’s descend. I saw him then, standing under the green leaves of the apple tree, with that smile I’d recognize anywhere. Whether covered in mud, makeup or flour, my Peeta's smile will always be unmistakable for me.

Needless to say, I rushed to the backyard and stopped right in front of him. He looked healthy and unscarred. I ached to touch him, but he spoke to me sadly, he told me we were in different realms, whatever that meant, and it was impossible for us to be together and to hold each other. It was all I could do not to topple over, with renewed grief.

  
I was certain I had finally lost my mind, I knew he couldn't really be there, but I wished it was real oh so much. In that moment I realized what I needed to do. The next day, I ordered a shipment of rope. I practiced every knot I remembered, and soon other people, dead people, started to show up to talk to me.

Finnick came when my fingers started working on the one knot I knew would let me feel Peeta’s arms around me again. He wasn’t amused at all, in fact he was quite crosse. But once I showed him the various pictures Annie had sent me over the years, of herself and little Finn, he stood speechless for the longest time, looking at the pictures greedily, he couldn’t get over how beautiful his son was, all that copper hair and chubby rosy cheeks, he forgot to be angry at me for making that specific knot. A few days later, I was quick to distract him again. Finnick laughed at me when I showed him my first fishing net, he forgot to chastise me about the other knot, we just sat on the tallest branch, overlooking Victor's Village, laughing like old times, making more nets until they came out as perfect as his. I never regretted my time spent with Finnick.

Boggs came too, similarly to Haymitch, to warned me of the dangers of showing too much of what I was doing, so I ordered more rope, cases full, that now fill both my houses. Then came Madge, as sweet and young as the last time I had seen her, she told me she wished there was a piano somewhere, because she missed music, so I ordered a piano just for her; her fingers couldn't make contact with the keys, but mine did, so I played for her from the little she had taught me when I came from my first games. She seemed pleased, it made me happy.

Prim was the last to visit, she told me outright she disapproved of my plans, but she also said she understood why I was opting for it. In a way it was a relief, otherwise, I would've been guilted into staying put, and sincerely I just couldn't go like that much longer.

It was also a relief, that only the good ghosts came to see me here. I suppose Peeta was protecting me from the scary ones, maybe his presence was like a shield, maybe it was the house itself, I don’t know for sure, but, I truly grateful to at least be able to sleep at night.

 

A mockingjay in flight crosses my eyesight startling me, bringing me back from my loathing of Buttercup fest, and my sadly reminiscing party of one. I realize I’m still singing and sunset is over, so I decide it's time to go get ready.

  
" _Are you, are you_  
Coming to the tree?  
_Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free_  
_Strange things did happen here_  
_No stranger would it be_  
_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.”_

  
I climb down the tree to find him standing right at the foot of the trunk. Always smiling. Always waiting. Always watching over me.

  
“So, you are doing it then?” He asks smirking amusedly, giving a deep nod towards the knotted rope the hangs from my shoulder. My gut reaction is to hide it behind my back, like a little kid, but he laughs shaking his head and I relax, he _knows_ , there's no reason to hide.

  
“Yeah," I answer nonchalantly, "No sense delaying it anymore, not when Gale is here to remove me from my home." I mutter darkly.

  
"What about your mother, and Johanna?" He poses, I roll my eyes and take a step in the direction of the house, typical Peeta question, always thinking of how someone's actions would affect others. Well, he's dead, he can no longer be my moral compass if he's a ghost, I answer anyway.

“Johanna knows." I confirm simply, he nods. "I told her months ago; she doesn’t really have any objections, but she still thinks I’m brainless. She understands, though, we've talked about it. She said she’d miss me, but she has Annie and Finnick Junior. They’ll all be alright.” Shrug as I make my way to the back door, and then my tone sours, “As for my mother, she's shipping me to a crazy facility in the Capitol. She won’t even be there to see me, what do I care how she feels."

That's when he intercepts me, and the notion that if he was alive I would've collided with his warm, solid chest, but instead I only feel a chill, foggy sensation that runs all the way from my head to my toes standing my hair in point, reminds me why I'm doing this. I want to be with him, touch him, feel him, hug him. But the way he's looking at me, tells me to keep my thougts to myself. His early amusement is gone.

"What about Gale? How do you think he's going to feel, when he finds you, or when he realizes he has to deal with the mess you're leaving behind?” His eyes are serious, but his voice is soft, sad almost.

  
"I… I will write him a note explaining." I say lamely, the truth is, I didn't think about the after. "I'll apologize to him in writing," yes, asking him to forgive me rather than asking his permission is more my style. "That’s all I can do for him anymore.” My tone softens when I think of Gale, he doesn’t really deserves to be left with the responsibility of my actions, I know whatever he’s going to find come morning won't be pretty, and he will be blaming himself, but my mind is made up. I’m not going back to the Capitol, at least not alive.

  
Peeta sighs, "So I see your mind is made up then," He looks at me under his lashes, that boyish smile peeking, he could convince me of almost anything with that smile, so I look away before he continues, "Any way I can change your mind?“ He asks, but I look at him and his face is scrunching a bit sheepishly, his eyes are reluctant, I don't think he really wants to change my mind, but this is Peeta, he will exhaust the options before another life is taken if he can help it.

  
"You don’t want me to join you?" I accuse.

  
"Oh sweetie, of course I wish we were together. I just wish there was another way.” He says shaking his head. This whole things reminds me of the rooftop the night before our first games, he was searching for a different way out that time as well.

  
“Peeta, there is no other way,” I tell him beseechingly, “Besides, I have been planning for this for years." He shakes his head ruefully again, making his ashy blonde curls shift adorably, and then he nods and cocks his head to the side, giving me a smile as he looks at me with his sparkling blue eyes.

  
"Alright, Katniss. If this is what you’re going to do, then I’ll be waiting for you." Peeta afims, after a second.

  
"Promise?" My heart rate increases, I feel a bout of fear clawing it's way up in my chest, I search his blue eyes for reassurance and voice my fear to him. ”We promised each other once, to meet up at midnight. We were standing under a different tree then, and you promised you’d be waiting, but when I was finally able to make my way back to you, you were gone." I feel my eyes fill up with tears, he looks away for a moment, as if he's reluctant to bring the memory back, but he returns his eyes to me.

"I know. I'm sorry. It was out of my hands at the moment." He says with a tinge of anger in his voice.

"We could've both been safe, if we had been in the right place together." I sigh. No real reason to think of _what ifs,_ I know that, so I move on, "I want to know, this time you will be there for sure," He answers my plea by raising his hand as if to caress my face, but all I feel is a cold swipe over my cheek. He smiles sadly at me.

"I swear it. This time nothing will keep me from meeting you under the tree,” He speaks softly but surely, I know he's being honest.

  
“Then, meet me up at midnight, right here, under our apple tree." my voice is shaky and full of aprehension. 

  
But, Peeta smiles, and with that I'm not scare anymore. He whispers, "It’s a date.” 

  
==========

 

The grandfather clock strikes 11:45. I look back at the stack of letters I’ve written, envelopes carefully addressed in my loopy handwriting to the few people I care to apologize for what I’m about to do. There is one leaving instructions of what to do with me, or my belongings, as well my exoneration of Gale in this sticky business, after all he doesn't deserve to pay for my sins, he's got his own to hunt him.

I do tell Gale, in his letter from me, there was nothing he could've done to prevent this, my decision had been taken years ago, I just needed a small nudge, and to be honest he wasn't responsible for sending me to the Capitol, he only came because as usual, he thought he could protect me that way, I can't fault him for trying, but he was never the one I needed to survive.

The chant of my anthem spills fresh from my lips as I leave my house.

  
“ _Are you, are you_  
_Coming to the tree?_  
_Where they strung up a man, they say murdered three_  
_Strange things did happen here_  
_No stranger would it be_  
_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.”_

  
I pick up a coil of sturdy rope I had previously chosen and sling it around my shoulder as I've done countless times, just, this time when I march into the already inky black night I know I'm not coming back. My destination is only a few paces away, there’s no rush, so I stroll carelessly, whistling my song because I don't want to call attention to the few neighbors I still have, I absently wonder if they will finally move away, far, far away, from the cursed Victor's Village; this place has  a shadow of doom lingering over it even without me doing this.

I'm distracted when I see, out of the corner of my eye, the sea of faces that follow my steps, silent and unblinking, witnesses to my last act of rebellion against the people who had tried to tell me how to live my life, or survive it rather. The problem is, I’m tired of surviving everyone I love.

  
“ _Are you, are you_  
_Coming to the tree?_  
_Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free_  
_Strange things did happen here_  
_No stranger would it be_  
_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._ ”

  
I look up to find Peeta already standing under the shadow of the tree, another stanza leaving my throat, he smiles sweetly at me, and I can't help but to think, ' _So this is that it would feel to walk down the aisle, where a proud, smiling, waiting groom would be standing with open arms? Why did I ever feared this?'_

Peeta is here, as he promised, his eyes intent on my every move. Prim, Finnick and Haymitch are also there, simply watching. I lock eyes with Peeta as I sing the words that fit the moment so perfectly they make choke back tears, and he smiles on. He knows my song is entirely for him.

  
“ _Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where the dead man called out for his love to flee;_

_Strange things did happen here,_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.”_

  
I toss the rope over the branch I’ve scoped out months ago, securing one end to the trunk so it wont slide before time. I start climbing to my chosen branch. The last strophe coming out firmly as I slide my head through the itchy new necklace of rope I had fashioned myself so long ago.

  
A thunder rolls dully in the distance, and a flash of lightning strikes close by not a second later, illuminating the ground beneath me.

  
“Huh. Fitting, isn’t it?” Finnick’s voice comes from the ground under me.

  
“Very appropriate!” Agrees Haymitch as he guffaws. “The Girl on Fire is to go out with a bang and pretty lights, exploding the sky!"

  
I bite back my retort, instead I try to shut out their voices from my head by singing louder, I drown the nagging feelings spiking in the pit of my stomach as the music fills me courage. I’m almost there, almost back in Peeta’s embrace.

  
" _Are you, are you_  
_Coming to the tree?_ ”

  
I shut my eyes tightly, and scoot down the length of the branch. 

  
“ _Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me,”_

  
I picture Peeta as an eleven year old boy, bruised cheek and blue eyes scampering away from mine. I picture him as the man he was when he was taken from me, by sideeffects left from his torture.

  
Just one more thing to do, and it’ll all be over, I’d be safe again. I Take a deep, cleansing breath.

  
“ _Strange things did happen here_  
_No stranger would it be_ ”

  
I swing my leg over the branch, and both my feet dangle freely next to the other. 

  
“ _If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree…_ I love you Peeta.”

  
I Jump.

  
“I love you too”

I’m surrounded by warmth, and the smell of cinnamon, dill, safety and love fills me lungs.

  
"I got you now, Katnis." He whispers in my ear, and I feel the first kiss he's given me in years just ghosting over my temple. I brave to open one eye, I'm crying but he's smiling.

  
There are mockingjays above head singing the eerie melody alone, now that my voice has quieted, but I barely register the sounds. I’m finally staring into the blue eyes I’ve been dying to see, and his arms strong and tight around me feel so impossibly good, I doubt I would ever move from here. It is just right, I’m finally home, we finally made it right, we finally met under the apple tree.

**Author's Note:**

> This is by far the darkest of my works. It was draining emotionally and physically to write, but I'm proud of it. Hope you enjoyed it. Everlark even in the afterlife!


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